Avalanche!
by Angel of Iowa
Summary: My entry to NotAGhost3's 2nd annual Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest. A skiing accident damages his face, and his path crosses that of a mysterious and beautiful woman...


Avalanche

Copyright 2017

 **A/N: Hello there! I'm back, and I'm not dead! This is my entry to Notaghost3's "A Very Phantom Christmas oneshot contest." I won "Most Original" last year with "Echoes of Love," and this one is hopefully even better. It's very different from my normal material, and was inspired by an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Return, in which the main characters throw shade at an old avalanche movie.**

* * *

 _He raced down the hill, steadily picking up speed. The wind whipped past, scalding his face with the cold. Slaloming in and out of trees, he saw the end of the line coming up ahead of him. That red line in the snow tantalized him, as did the rapidly counting numbers on the screen next to it. It consumed him, the desire to finally cross that line, to have the numbers on the screen stop, to hear the crowds roaring while the announcer screamed his name._

 _"Hey, Destler!" A voice behind him taunted. "I'm catching up to you. Don't think you'll beat me again! Or break the record!"_

 _He ignored it. It was just a voice. It didn't matter. He couldn't control it, so why should he worry about what its owner did?_

 _The line came even closer. And closer. And closer, until it wasn't there anymore; it was under his feet, then behind him, and it was just as he had dreamed._

 _"You win again." That voice came again. He turned, seeing his main rival-and his closest friend. "I swear, I'll beat your ass one of these days, Destler."_

 _"You can try, De Chagny. But until you stop worrying about messing up that coif of yours, and start worrying about your speed, my ass is all you'll see." he shot back._

 _He stood at the top of the run, staring down at the steep, slippery slope before him. "Are you sure about this?" he asked his friend. "Nobody knows where we are, we don't know the conditions, or anything about this slope."_

 _His friend looked scandalized. "Oh, come on, Destler! I told you, I used to ski this mountain all the time when I was just a kid! It's perfectly safe." he scoffed._

 _Destler shook his head, giving up. "If it's safe, you won't mind going first, then?" he asked pointedly._

 _His friend looked at him sideways. "If you insist, you big baby. Just follow me, and you'll be fine. Just be sure you go exactly where I do; it snowed quite a bit recently, and this mountain isn't known for being merciful to those who don't know it."_

 _With that, De Chagny uncrossed his skis and took off. Destler followed close behind, careful not to lose sight of his friend. They slid down the side of the mountain, careful not to go where it was forbidden. The mountain slope seemed to shiver beneath their feet, but otherwise, all was quiet. The snow absorbed the sound for miles around, and the resulting silence was something tangible, almost sacred, broken only by the swish of skis over snow._

 _But all of this was lost on Destler. At least, until a sound behind him startled him, causing him to slow rapidly to a stop. He looked up the mountain, and his eyes widened in horror. An enormous cloud of white billowed down the slope behind them, and was rapidly gaining both speed and size._

 _He turned facing forward, preparing to call for his friend, to warn him, and realized that his friend was nowhere in sight. He decided he would just have to follow the tracks made by the skis, and set off as quickly as he could. He abandoned all caution, taking the tight, twisting turns recklessly, barreling down the frozen inclines at top speed, at all times feeling the cloud of snow and ice breathing down the back of his neck, reaching out to grab him with frozen fingers, hissing through its frigid lips._

 _He came out of a turn, and saw that the path diverged. He frantically searched for his friend's ski tracks, but couldn't see them. Hearing the growl of the frozen demon behind him, he took the trail to the left, praying that it was the correct path, and his instincts wouldn't lead him astray._

 _Another gust of wind revealed the covered ski tracks, going down the path to the right…_

* * *

When he next opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a fire cracking in a nearby hearth. He saw that he lay in a low bed, a cot, really. The room was tiny, and appeared to be the only one in the building. A shelf near the single window was crammed with books, but he was unable to make out the titles. Through the window, he was able to see the snow whipping past, and hear it against the roof.

The door slammed open, then shut. A figure entered, carrying a bucket, wrapped head to toe in layers of clothing, obscuring any features of individuality. It looked at him, and with a muffled voice, said, "Ah, you're awake. Good. You had me worried there for a while that I might have been too late."

He stared at the figure, stunned. "Where am I? What happened? Who are you?" he demanded, shakily.

The figure laughed. "You are in my humble abode. Don't worry, we're safe, although I can't say the same for anyone else who got caught in that avalanche."

He started. "Avalanche?"

"Yes. I can only assume you saw it, given your babbling when I pulled you out of the snowbank. You kept speaking of some sort of snow demon, and a path. Can you tell me what that was all about?"

He stopped to consider a moment. _A path…? Oh!_ "Yes, I was supposed to follow my friend's path down the mountain. He grew up around here, and warned me that the mountain didn't take kindly to strangers."

The figure nodded. "It doesn't, but I think he was probably referring to the people living here. We come, and stay, for good reason, and the people who live in the lower climes know to steer clear of us."

It then began to unwrap itself, after setting the bucket by the fire. As it did, its voice became clearer and clearer. "So what were the two of you doing on the mountain, anyway? No one comes up here without a reason."

"We were skiing. He told me that skiing this mountain was like no other experience in the world, and that I had to do it at least once in my life. I guess he was right, even if it was for all the wrong reasons."

The figure froze, and turned to look at him for several seconds. Then, it spoke, in a voice as hard as ice, "You were doing...what?"

Destler stared at it in confusion. "We were skiing. We're training for the Olympics, actually. Are you alright?"

The figure suddenly lunged forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, hard. "You idiot! These slopes are incredibly unstable, and people don't go near them for very good reasons! You two were the ones who most likely caused the avalanche, and god only knows how much damage! It's going to take years to rebuild all of what was destroyed, because you and your friend had to fulfill some macho fantasy and gain a new story to stroke your egos with! I had empathy for you before, but now...you deserve what happened to you, as punishment for your stupidity." it snarled.

Destler blanched. "It was my friend's idea! I didn't even want to do this! Besides, whatever we _might_ have caused surely isn't enough to deserve getting stranded in a snowbank!"

The figure's eyes narrowed. They were grey, he noticed, a reflection of the snow outside. " _That was not what I was referring to._ I refer to your face."

"My-my face? What's wrong with my face?" He raised a shaking hand to his head. His fingers met with the rough feel of bandages covering the right side of his face. He froze. "WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" He screamed, his mind refusing to accept what had happened.

The figure simply looked at him. "I saved your life. A life that you put in danger yourself. I am not to blame for what happened to you. In fact, had I not found you when I did, the damage to your face would have been much worse. As it is, it's restricted to only the right side. You're lucky, though you may not realize it." The figure scoffed.

Destler looked at it. "You're a madman, that's what you are." he whispered, gradually becoming hysterical. "A demon come from hell to torture me. Or perhaps I'm already dead, and this is my punishment. Or I'm still trapped in that snowbank, and my mind somehow thinks this is better than oblivion!"

The figure just smirked. "I can prove to you I'm not a figment. Tell me, what do I look like?"

Destler started. "What?"

"What do I look like?"

"I don't know. I guess you're a man with an untamed beard and long hair, wearing ratty old flannels and overalls."

The figure smirked even more. "Wrong." It began to remove the rest of its layers. As the final scarf was removed from around the figure's face, Destler gaped in shock. Before him was no wild mountain man, but a beautiful woman, with dark hair tied back in a plait, and wind-scalded skin on her face.

"You're...a woman?" The fig- _she_ simply nodded. He shook his head. "What's your name, then? And how did you find me?"

She turned from him, heading to the stove. "It's rather a long story, and you're still cold. I'm going to make some tea, which you _will_ drink, and then I'll tell you."

Destler nodded then. "Will you at least tell me your name first?" he asked.

She paused, then halfway turned her head to him, so he could see only her profile, silhouetted against the light of the window. "My name is Christine. I live out here, and have for most of my life." she turned and set a mug before him. "Here. The tea isn't ready yet, but this was already cooking. You need it."

He tentatively took a sip, then quickly gulped it down as the flavor hit his tongue. He set the cup down and looked at Christine. "I've dined at some of the finest restaurants in the world, and I've never had anything as delicious as that. What is it?"

She smiled, then, a genuine smile. It transformed her, made her look years younger, and made his breath catch in his throat. "It's broth. Once you've warmed up more, you can have some soup with the meat in it."

"What kind of meat?"

"Chamois. A kind of mountain goat. One of the local farmers has a herd, and he gave me some of the meat from the ones he butchered this year in exchange for my help."

"I didn't know there were a lot of people out here. How do you deal with the avalanches?" He asked, trying to be polite.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Christine's face hardened, her grey eyes becoming cold, unforgiving ice once more. "There are several small villages here, made of people who wish to escape society and its ridiculous ideals. And we deal with the avalanches together, and help one another as best we can."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

She cut him off. "Didn't mean to offend me? Perhaps not, but it is not my _feelings_ that are damaged, and are buried beneath tons of snow. It is not my feelings that have had their livestock killed, their homes swept away, and their precious food stores possibly lost. You say you do not mean to offend us, and yet your actions clearly show otherwise." she snarled.

Anger rose in Destler's chest, and he rose to confront her. "You know what?! I'm sorry! I'm sorry all of this happened to you! But it isn't my fault! I didn't cause the avalanche, I didn't kill all those animals, I didn't destroy anyone's homes, and I didn't destroy anyone's food! It was the avalanche that did all that, and despite everything that's running through your mind, that wasn't my fault!" he yelled.

The teapot began to shriek, and Christine turned to attend to it. Destler studied her form as she poured two mugs, then looked away, embarrassed, when she turned and caught him watching. As she handed his mug to him, Christine just smirked. "We'll see how you feel about that once I show you the damage, Monsieur…?"

He just gaped at her angrily. "Destler. Erik Destler."

"Monsieur Erik Destler. For now, eat, drink, and get some sleep. If I can dig my way out in the morning, I'll take you to the village and see if there's any news of your friend. Unless he was significantly farther down the mountain than you were, though, I wouldn't hold out much hope."

* * *

The next day, Erik emerged with Christine into the bright morning sun. It reflected off the snow, rendering everything it touched fresh and new, and temporarily blinded him, making him ironically grateful for the bandages covering half of his face. However, it was the only beauty to be seen. For miles around, trees were torn from the ground, their roots reaching for the sky. Boulders were scattered about, great gashes torn into the earth where they had clearly been dragged from their previous points of repose. Erik could only stare.

"Come. If we are to reach the village by noon, we must make haste; I don't know what condition the path is in, and it may take longer than normal." Christine said matter-of-factly.

They set off, trudging through the deep snow, occasionally stopping to remove a log or rock from the path they traveled. Aside from the sound of their feet in the snow, all was silent; no bird chirped, no animal called to its mate, not even an icicle drip drip dripped into the snow below. And, as Christine had promised, the sun was over their heads in the sky by the time they had reached the village. Or at least, what was left of it. For indeed, as Christine had said, the avalanche had destroyed almost everything, leaving in its wake broken boards and scattered memories. Erik couldn't believe his eyes. _Did...did I really do all this? Did I cause this? All this destruction?_

"This way. If anyone will have news of your friend, it will be Madame Giry."

"Who is she? Why would she know about my friend?"

Christine _looked_ at him, and the way she did made him bristle; it made him feel stupid, like some callow, insipid _boy_ who would never be a man. "She's the village matriarch; nothing happens on this mountain without her knowing about it. She'll know what happened to your friend, and if he's still alive."

Erik simply nodded. She traipsed through the snow, and the eyes of the villagers followed them all the way until they reached what appeared to be the village center, where a bonfire had been started and an older woman, probably in her fifties, stood giving orders to a group of men. "...And try to find what you can of everyone's food stores; we'll need them." She turned around. "Christine! Thank goodness you're alright, child, I was worried sick about you! Who is this?"

Christine accepted her frantic embrace, then said to her quietly, "Is there someplace a little more private we can talk? I'll explain everything."

Madame Giry nodded, and led them over to where one building was still mostly standing, by virtue of part of the roof being made of a slab of granite sticking out from the mountain. "What is going on, child? Out with it!"

Christine motioned to Erik. "His name is Erik. He was skiing the mountain with a friend of his, and they probably started the avalanche. He got caught in it, and I ended up pulling him out of a snowbank near my hut. His friend was apparently a ways further down the mountain, though. Have you heard of anyone who was found? Someone not from around here?"

The older woman turned and looked at Erik, seeming to stare into his soul with her piercing blue eyes. She tutted, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, boy. I haven't heard anything of your friend. Now, that doesn't mean much at this point, but considering the magnitude of that growler, the odds aren't good. I can't spare anyone to look for him right now, either. We need to get some sort of shelter made, find some food, and make sure everyone has been seen by our doctor. If you stick around and help, that's one more set of hands working, and we can get that accomplished that much faster. Maybe then we can see about finding your friend."

Erik could only nod, his heart caught in his throat, both with aching worry for Raoul, but also for this woman's simple, sympathetic gaze that did not judge him, did not carry condemnation as Christine's had when she accused him of causing the avalanche. He followed her sweeping gesture, and walked towards the group of men who she had been ordering about earlier. "Jacques! This is Erik. He got caught in the growler, Christine saved him. He's going to stay and help, at least until everything is back in functioning order. After that, we're going to try and find his friend he was out here with, and might have gotten caught in it." She then turned to Erik. "Jacques is my nephew. Go with him and the other men, and see if you can find any food stores that might have survived the slide. If you find any, meat is what we really need, but make sure not to kill any animals. We need them alive."

Erik nodded once more, and then left with Jacques and the other men. He had a job to do, and a snowslide to make amends for.

* * *

"Well, now that he's gone, you're going to tell me exactly what happened, child. And you're going to explain exactly why you look at him with such disdain in your eyes." Madame Giry said, not turning away from her work.

Christine sighed, knowing it was pointless to try to refuse. One simply could not refuse Madame Giry. "He and his stupid friend were skiing down the mountain, trying to fulfill some idiotic masculine fantasy. Their weight on the fresh snow triggered the avalanche, and caused all of this damage! Most of the village was wiped out, people were hurt, some might have died, and now there is no food left for the winter! Of course I look at him with disdain, he caused all of our suffering! What I don't understand is how you can look at him and _not_ be angry! His actions have ruined everything!" Christine hissed, venting her frustrations with the arrogant, half-witted, naive, _tall, handsome, puppy-eyed...what? Puppy-eyed?_ Where had that come from?

"I have been on this earth for fifty-seven years now, Christine Daae, and I've seen a lot of things in my time, and met a lot of people, too. I can tell if someone is a good person or a bad one, and I can tell, he's a good young man, if a little hotheaded and impulsive. As for the avalanche, it isn't the first one we've dealt with over the years, and it certainly won't be the last. What's done is done, and we simply must get on with it." She turned then, and looked at Christine with that stare she was famous for. "You must get on with it, too. There is no malice in that boy's heart, just as there isn't any in yours. Whether he and his friend caused that slide or not, he's helping rebuild, and that's what matters."

Christine was quiet then, and turned back to her work. Throughout the day, she mulled over what Madame Giry had said, and ultimately decided that she was right. _But he'll still have to make amends,_ she decided.

* * *

At the end of the day, Erik looked around the village center, and was taken aback by what had been accomplished. He had spent the day hauling sleds full of meat and preserved vegetables from the surrounding wilderness and the emergency food stores to the building left standing. By midafternoon, he was too tired to even notice the progress the villagers who had stayed behind had made. A large, ramshackle building had been constructed from the sides of the houses that were left in the snow, held together with rope, with snow packed around the base to keep it steady. Inside, the snow had been cleared from the floor, again packed around the bottom of the walls, leaving the dirt beneath exposed. The dirt was covered with animal hides, creating a barrier between the cold dirt and the person lying on top. _"It's to be the common room. Everyone will sleep there until we can get the houses rebuilt."_ Jacques had told him. A large fire had been lit, and the biggest kettle Erik had ever seen had been procured, with a stew cooking inside. _"Auntie's stew is the best thing for you after a day like this. It'll stick to your ribs like nobody's business."_ Jacques had informed him again.

Several bowls of some sort had been procured, though not enough for everyone to have their own; therefore, each had a bowl of stew, and then the bowl was passed to the next hungry villager. When Erik's turn came, he looked around, trying to find a place to sit down. His legs, back, and shoulders ached after the long day of lifting, hauling, and struggling through the deep, soft snow. He spied Christine sitting on a log alone, and made his way over to her.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" he asked. She turned around, having obviously been startled by his voice. She nodded, and he took the seat next to her. Not knowing what else to say, and too tired for much in the way of conversation anyway, they sat in companionable silence. Eventually, Erik finished his bowl, and handed it off to a young boy, who appeared about ten. He then turned to Christine, and asked her, "So what now?"

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Am I staying here, or am I going back with you, or are we both staying here…?"

She smiled at him. "I'm going back to my house, and if you want to come

with me, you're welcome to. In the morning, Jacques, Pierre, and I will help you look for your friend. If he's out there, we'll find him. You can be sure of that."

Erik looked at her, curious. "How can you guarantee that? There's an entire mountainside we have to search."

She laughed, and that laugh took him completely by surprise. It was high and clear, and sounded like joy incarnate. "Pierre breeds hounds. Damn good ones, too. He's agreed to bring along a few of them to help look for your friend." She looked to the sky, and watched the setting sun for a moment. She stood. "We ought to get going. It's getting dark, and this isn't a place you want to be out past sundown. Come on."

They set off for Christine's cabin, reaching it just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. That night, as Erik laid in the cot before the fire, he mulled over what the days events had brought. But most of all, they settled on Christine. She was a mystery, to be sure, but one he found he desperately wanted to solve, and she intrigued him to no end. She was incredibly beautiful, yes, but more than that, she was obviously intelligent and capable of surviving nearly on her own in the vast, unforgiving wilderness. Watching her at the fire that day, stirring the giant kettle of stew, stirred feelings in him that he had thought completely absent. Thoughts of hearth and home, of a family, ran rampant through his mind. These things had all tempted him before, at one time or another, but any thoughts of romance had been buried deep once he had been recruited to the olympic squad. _Any chance of romance I ever had is probably dead now, anyway, with my face looking like this._ He thought bitterly. _And just when I found someone I would really want to pursue that with, too._

* * *

The next day, as the sun rose over the mountain, a loud banging was heard on the door of the hut. The door opened to reveal Pierre, with three hounds on leads. He handed a lead each to Christine and Erik, and they set off down the mountain. Christine led them to where she had found Erik in the snowbank, and Erik then led them to where he last remembered following the trail. Pierre instructed them to let the hounds loose, once they had been set on the scent using a bandana from Raoul Erik had borrowed. The hounds searched for over an hour, and led them down the mountain a ways, but eventually lost the scent completely. As they trudged dejectedly back to the hut, Christine placed one hand on Erik's shoulder, and told him, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry we didn't find your friend. I guess we just hope that he made it off the mountain before the avalanche hit."

Erik nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

The days passed in a slow, methodical manner, filled with working, repairing, and hauling meat on the sledges. Eventually, Erik simply ceased to track the days, and began to move with the flow of the clouds and wind. This went on for several weeks, until one day, Christine suddenly looked at him over her tea, and said, "You know, it's Christmas Eve tomorrow. I hadn't realized it until now, what with all the rebuilding going on."

Erik looked back at her. "Huh. Do you have any traditions you observe? Usually back home, I just hang around with Raoul and don't do much of anything."

She smiled. "I make a special dish. It's hard to cook, so I only do it for Christmas. Don't you have family to visit?"

He shook his head, crossing his arms behind it and looking at the ceiling. "My parents died a while ago, and I can't really say I miss them. They weren't exactly the best parents in the world. Raoul's folks kicked him out years ago when they realized he was serious about skiing competitively, instead of going to law school or something lucrative and soul-crushing like that. So he's with me, and we just...hang out." he ruminated on this a moment, realizing how empty it felt now, since he had met Christine and the other villagers.

"Well, either way, I'm going to go to bed. It's late, and we've just about finished the repairs. They should be done within the next few days." she told him. That night, he laid in bed thinking. I should get her something. _But what? I'm all the way up here, with no money...or stores to spend it in._ He tossed and turned for a while, his thoughts keeping him awake. Then, the perfect idea hit him, and he fell asleep with a smile on the visible half of his face.

The next day, Jacques's help was swiftly enlisted, and the two of them spent the whole of the day working on the gift. Once the last swipe of the polishing rag was done, he thanked Jacques profusely, and carried it carefully back to the cabin. Christine thankfully wasn't there, and so Erik was able to hide it beneath his cot. Christine walked in a moment later, with a nervous smile on her face. "What is it? Is something wrong?" Erik asked worriedly.

"No, but...your bandages are ready to come off. The wound is healed, and the new skin needs to be exposed to air. However...where it's healed...it doesn't look like it used to." She admitted.

Erik swallowed, unable to comprehend. "What do you mean?"

"It's...twisted. Damaged. It looks like a burn scar." She told him quietly.

Erik looked at his hands, then nodded. "Better I'm ugly than I'm dead. It is what it is, I guess." He looked at her, tears in both their eyes. "It doesn't matter. Just...just take them off. Please." He added as an afterthought.

She nodded, and began to unwind the gauze. Once the final strip was removed, he winced momentarily at the light from the fire. "I've got a small mirror in my bedroom, if you'd like to look at yourself." She offered. He nodded.

A tiny handheld mirror was produced, and he took it, afraid for just a second to look at himself. She took his hand in encouragement, he inhaled, and looked at his reflection.

The face that looked back at him was, indeed, twisted and looked burnt. However, the most remarkable factor was that the damage was confined completely to the right side of his face. One could almost draw a line directly down the middle of his face, down the bridge of his nose, until it veered off to the side before it hit his lip. "It'll get better, you'll see. If you make sure it gets exposed to air and sun now, while it's still rather raw, the redness will fade into the normal color of your skin." Christine told him in an attempt at comfort.

Erik smiled tearfully, then turned to try to hide the tears running down his face. He felt a warm weight on his side, and leaning against his shoulder. He embraced Christine silently, sobbing quiet tears into her curly hair. Tears ran down Christine's face as well, and they held each other silently until they fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Christine woke in Erik's arms. His breathing indicated that he was still deeply asleep. She propped her chin on his chest, studying his now-disfigured face. _He looks so peaceful._ She thought to herself. _So much younger._

Erik awoke to Christine bustling around the kitchen, making tea. He reached under the cot, and grasped her gift. He stood behind her, and cleared his throat as loudly as he could. She jumped, and whirled around. "Erik! I didn't realize you were awake! You startled me!" She laughed breathily.

He smiled, then asked, "Will you close your eyes? I have something for you."

She looked at him skeptical, but complied. Erik brought the gift out from behind his back, then told her, "Open."

She opened her eyes, and gasped at what she saw. Erik held in his hands a small, exquisitely constructed wooden cabinet, meant to hold little curios and knicknacks. "Oh, Erik, it's beautiful! Thank you! I love it! But, you didn't have to get me anything. I-I don't have anything for you, I'm sorry, I didn't think that-"

He cut her off. "I _wanted_ to get you this, both as a Christmas present, and as a way of saying thank you for saving my sorry hide when you didn't have to, and especially for continuing to help me even when it turned out Raoul and I were the ones who caused the avalanche. And...I just wanted to find a way to say that I-"

A loud banging at the door of the cabin interrupted him, and Christine quickly answered the door. Madame Giry. "Madame Giry? What's going on?" Christine asked.

Madame Giry ignored her, and instead turned to Erik. "Monsieur Destler, there's a man in the village looking for you. He says he's part of a search party that's been looking for you for weeks." She stated simply.

Erik stared back at her. "Are you serious?" He asked in disbelief.

She gave him a dry look. "Do I look like I'm joking? He's very insistent, too. You had better come, and quickly."

At that, Erik and Christine sprung to attention, quickly dressing and following Madame Giry to the small sleigh she had used for travel. As the sturdy little horse trotted into the now-reconstructed village, Erik's eyes widened in amazement. Raoul stood talking to Jacques and Pierre, laughing in the early morning light.

"Raoul!" Erik yelled in excitement, sheer childlike joy welling up in him. His friend turned, excitement clear on his face as well.

They ran towards each other and embraced, relief running through both of them that the other was alive after so long thinking him dead. Erik pulled back and looked at his friend, before saying, "How the hell are you alive? I thought you were dead! We took dogs to track you with and everything!"

"I could ask the same thing of you! When I saw the slide following me down the mountain, and then you weren't behind me, I was absolutely terrified! And you never showed up! Rich is absolutely beside himself, and there's a giant firestorm in the media surrounding your disappearance, and the girls are threatening me with terrible things if I don't find you!" Raoul said all in one breath.

Erik laughed, and then turned to Christine to introduce her. "Christine, this is Raoul, my friend that we were looking for. Raoul, this is Christine. She's the one who saved me after the avalanche. Pulled me out of a snowbank and everything."

Raoul took her offered hand and shook it gratefully. "Thank you so much for saving my friend. I owe you a lot."

Christine smiled. "I would have done it for anyone, though I'm grateful for the opportunity to have gotten to know him."

Raoul tossed his head back and laughed. "You're one of the few people to say that." He then turned to Erik. "Are you ready to go? We need to call off the search party, and let everyone know you're okay."

Without thinking, Erik nodded, eager to head back to civilization. "God, yes! The food here is amazing, but I would kill for a cheeseburger, you have absolutely no idea."

Raoul gestured towards the path, and Erik turned to say goodbye, only to be met with Christine's crestfallen face. "Christine? Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

She nodded, giving him a sad smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just...never really thought about the fact that you were going to leave one day."

Erik stopped, and opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. Feeling the eyes of his friend staring at the two of them, he stepped forward and tipped her face up to look at him. "Would you want me to stay?" He asked her seriously.

She looked at him in shock. "What?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

She looked away, her expression pained. "It's not my decision to make. My wishes in this don't matter."

Erik sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration. "That's not what I asked! Christine, do you want me to stay?" He asked one last time, enunciating each word clearly.

She looked straight into his eyes. "Yes! If it were possible, I'd want you to stay! And now, even when I know it's not, I still want you to stay. Here. With...me." She admitted quietly.

Erik looked between Christine and Raoul for several painful moments, then sighed. "Christine, I-"

"Erik! For god's sake, man, let's go!" Raoul yelled.

"You had better go." Christine said.

Erik inhaled quickly, then exhaled and nodded. He went to follow Raoul, then turned back to look at her. She was staring at her boots, clearly trying not to cry. That was the final straw, and Erik strode back to her, took her by the waist, and kissed her.

Christine's eyes widened in surprise, and then she closed them, sinking into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her forehead to his when he pulled away. "I will come back, Christine. I swear to you, I will come back." He whispered to her.

She watched him walk away, but this time, there was hope in her heart. _He'll come back._ She told herself. _He promised he'll come back._

* * *

Christine sat at her tiny kitchen table, sipping her tea. Not much had changed, although the tiny curio cabinet _he_ had made her sat on the mantel. The damage from the avalanche had long since corrected itself, but the damage done to her heart had yet to heal. _He promised he would come back. Bah. I should have known that his promises were worth nothing._ She thought bitterly.

Two years had passed, and though the occasional letter from Erik had appeared during the first year, they had stopped shortly after the one-year mark. No explanation, no letter from Raoul telling her Erik had been in an accident (thankfully), nothing. They had just...stopped.

She heard a gentle tapping coming from her door, and stared at it for a moment, confused, as it was not Madame Giry's loud banging knock, nor was it Jacques's firm one-two-three-four. She opened the door, prepared to berate whoever was there for disturbing her peace, but was shocked into silence at the person standing there. _Him._ "What are you doing here?" She hissed at him, incensed that he would suddenly appear after a year without contact.

He looked confused. "What do you mean? I told you I was going to come back. I even told you that I was going to come today, weather permitting. Weren't you expecting me?"

 _He's a good actor, I'll give him that._ Christine thought. "What are you talking about? Expect you? I haven't heard from you in over a year! No letter, no explanation, no _anything!_ You bastard, I actually believed you when you said you would come back to me!" She screamed at him, tears running down her face. She pounded her fists against his chest, until he grabbed her wrists and held them.

"What are _you_ talking about, Christine? I've written to you at least once a month just this year! It was _you_ who wasn't responding! I know I was supposed to come back nine months ago, but...Raoul's girlfriend, Meg, got pregnant, and something about her uterus made her extremely delicate, and he needed to take care of her almost constantly. I was helping them, running errands and stuff like that." As he spoke, Christine gradually calmed down, and simply stared at him in shock. "I hardly had time to sit down and write, between helping them, practicing, and competing. _I'm so, so sorry."_

She simply stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. "You...you tried to write to me? But I never received any letters…"

He sighed and released her, running one hand through his hair. "I realize that now. I got so worried when I didn't hear back from you, I just came. I have no clue what happened to all my letters, but...that doesn't matter now. I'm here, with you, and I don't intend to leave you again." He brushed his hand over her cheek. "Christine...will you come back to the states with me? I know you're accustomed to living out here alone, but…"

She pulled him close, not finding it possible to be angry with him any longer. As his arms wrapped around her, she nodded tearfully, grateful that he was finally here with her. "Oh, Christine." He whispered into her hair as he held her close.

The last thing that either spoke for a long time was, "I love you."

* * *

 **Finis! This took a very long time to write, and is the single longest chapter I've ever written. Please read and review, and check out my other stories. The Hidden Man will be the next one I update, although that might be a while, since I've got a full class schedule at school.**


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